


Firsts

by magneticdice



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Face-to-face, First Times, Gap Filler, M/M, Making Out
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-23
Updated: 2014-01-28
Packaged: 2018-01-09 18:50:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,866
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1149541
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/magneticdice/pseuds/magneticdice
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A small series of short fics in which Ian is always pushing Mickey to try new things in their “relationship” or whatever it is. Some of it is kind of smutty, but I'm sure no one will complain about that! (I won't include the “firsts” that are canon, but might mention them.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Blow Me

**Author's Note:**

> Chapter Summary: Mickey made it perfectly clear that what they had going was just sex. His threat of cutting out Ian's tongue if he tried to kiss him again was crystal clear. No kissing: check. But that didn't mean it had to be JUST fucking every time, did it? Ian decided to put that theory to the test.

**Chapter 1: Blow Me** **  
**

Ian and Mickey were hooking up on a regular basis. It helped that Kash was still busy trying to knock up Linda, because Ian could avoid having _that_ awkward conversation with him until later... _much_ later... because how exactly do you explain to your older lover than you don't want to sleep with him anymore because now you're banging the very thug that's been terrorizing him for months?

Fucking Mickey was completely different than what he had going on with Kash, and Ian totally loved it. Mickey made it perfectly clear that what they had going was just sex. His threat of cutting out Ian's tongue if he tried to kiss him again was crystal clear. No kissing: check. But that didn't mean it had to be _just_ fucking every time, did it? Ian decided to put that theory to the test.

Mickey walked into the Kash and Grab at eight, as usual. It was one of the least busy times of the day during the week, so it was easier for Ian to go on his “break” and close the store for a while. He busied himself in one of the aisles, waiting for Ian to ring up the last customer in the store. Ian watched him from the corner of his eye, unconsciously biting his lip while trying to concentrate on giving the guy in front of him the proper change. Mickey looked so damned good in his peacoat and scarf.

Ian finally finished with the customer and followed him to the front door, locking it and flipping the “Be Back in 15 Minutes” sign.

“'Bout time,” Mickey muttered as Ian walked past him and led him to the back. Ian couldn't contain his excitement, his giant, goofy grin blatantly plastered onto his face. Just the thought of being inside of Mickey had him so hard that his jeans were already too tight.

Ian walked into the cooler and began opening his zipper without pretence. He turned to look at Mickey, glad to see the older boy had already taken off his scarf, jacket and shirt. Since they'd started up this thing, whatever it was, Ian had been the one doing the fucking—well, not counting that _first_ time in Mickey's room.

He didn't waste any time, shoving Mickey into the beer rack so hard that the thug had no choice but to use his hands to support himself. Ian pulled Mickey's pants down right after pulling his hard dick out of his own, spit on his hand to lube himself up and pushed into Mickey slowly. He felt bad about not having any sort of lubricant and made a mental note to suggest Mickey carry some, but the brunet didn't complain—in fact, he pushed his ass back towards Ian, further impaling himself.

Ian knew that if he wanted his plan to work, he would need to fuck Mickey selfishly, fast and hard. He couldn't let Mickey have time to jerk himself off. The redhead put a leg up onto one of the crates that littered the floor of the cooler to get the right amount of leverage and began savagely pounding into Mickey while still pushing him up against the metal shelves with both hands, causing the older boy to grunt on each powerful thrust. It didn't take long for Ian to feel that familiar feeling in his gut that told him he was close. Ian was panting, having gotten there in record time. He moved one hand down to Mickey's ass and the other to his hip, gripping firmly, holding Mickey in position as he spewed into him. Ian's thrusts faltered as he came, until he wasn't even moving at all, the sensation of cumming too overwhelming to think about doing anything else.

“What the fuck, Gallagher?” Mickey spat as he pulled away from Ian and spun around. Ian knew how pissed Mickey would be—he'd more than been prepared for it. After all, they always got each other to the end, which was why this thing worked so well.

Ian smiled wickedly before pushing Mickey back into the cold metal again. He was quick, getting down on his knees in front of the brunet's cock which was already dripping with precum. Ian stole a glance up at Mickey and licked his lips in anticipation, squashing down the nervousness he was feeling. He was afraid that Mickey would reject him, not wanting whatever they were doing to be any gayer than it was. Fucking was fucking, but a blowjob was something else—more meaningful, maybe. Ian hoped that Mickey would be horny enough to let it happen.

“Here, let me help you with that,” he suggested, grabbing Mickey's dick at the base and lapping its head before the brunet could protest. Ian tasted Mickey, a hint of saltiness hitting his tongue and vanishing when it mixed with Ian's saliva. Mickey let out a sigh, and that little sign that he was enjoying it gave Ian the confidence he needed to continue.

He eagerly devoured Mickey's dick into his mouth, taking as much of it as he could, and using his hand to cover whatever was left. He proceeded to jerk Mickey off while sucking his cock, hollowing out his cheeks to get a stronger suction effect. Mickey was the one panting now, and Ian did something that surprised himself: while still sucking him, he took Mickey's hands and put them on either side of his head, encouraging the older boy to fully enjoy it. Ian felt victorious when he felt Mickey's grip tighten, fingers running through his hair and nails skimming his scalp, threatening to scratch.

Mickey was groaning, obviously loving the feeling of Ian's warm mouth wrapped around his cock. Ian moved his mouth off of Mickey with a pop, but didn't stop pumping him with the hand he had wrapped around his shaft. He licked the underside of Mickey's dick, feeling the grooves created by his veins as he ran his tongue along its length. He hadn't had a chance to fully appreciate Mickey's penis before; they were always in such a rush to get off before anyone interrupted them. He considered giving Mickey a compliment but thought better of it—he didn't want to risk ruining the moment.

“Ugh... yeah...” Mickey breathed out. Ian knew Mickey must be close, since that was the only time the older boy ever spoke while they banged. He made the split-second decision to let Mickey cum on his face, horniness outweighing any sense of propriety, so he sat back a little on his heels, closed his eyes, and pumped Mickey for all he was worth. The brunet pulled what hair he had in his hands while he came, the wet strands of cum falling all over Ian. He felt some of the warm fluid hit his forehead and cheek, and a little even seeped into his mouth, but at least none had gotten into his eyes.

Ian was surprised to find that Mickey's cum tasted sweet—very different from his precum—no doubt due to all the sugar Mickey consumed. A day didn't go buy without the older boy stealing a Snickers bar or a pack of Jello cups after they'd fucked.

He tried to think of the least offensive way to wipe his face, but Mickey didn't exactly give him a chance to get up, using his hold on Ian's head to hold him there while he pushed his still-hard dick back into Ian's mouth a few more times, getting every last drop out.

“Damn, Gallagher. That was good,” he said once he'd finished and was pulling his pants up.

Ian grinned at the compliment as he wiped his face with his previously discarded t-shirt. Mission: accomplished. They got themselves sorted and walked out of the cooler.

“So when do you think I'll get one in return?” he lewdly asked Mickey as the older boy wrapped his scarf around his neck.

Mickey laughed, unabashed. “In your dreams, faggot.” He grabbed a Snickers bar on his way out, the bells of the store's front door jingling with his exit.

Ian flipped the break sign back with a smile, still on a high, and spent the rest of his shift devising a new plan. **  
**


	2. Look at Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ian wasn't exactly disappointed by sex with Mickey—not by a long shot. In fact, each time with Mickey was the hottest sex he'd ever had... but he wished it was different—less impersonal.

**Chapter 2: Look at Me**

Things were going pretty great for Ian. Working at the store had become a lot less stressful ever since Kash decided to walk out on his family. Of course it helped that Ian had gotten Mickey a job there...

The summer was practically flying by, everyone out and about, happily spending money on drinks, beer, ice cream and weed. Lip and Kev were doing well too: they were back at the Kash and Grab every day, stocking up on supplies for the ice cream truck.

One afternoon, after they'd finished helping Lip load some boxes of soda onto the truck, Mickey turned to Ian and pointed to the cooler while raising an eyebrow suggestively. Ian shrugged and followed the older boy in, glad for the reprieve from the summer heat that inevitably made its way into the Kash and Grab.

Mickey was standing against the shelves with his pants around his ankles and his ass pointing into the air within thirty seconds of Ian walking in.

“What's got you so excited?” Ian wondered.

“Shut up and get over here,” Mickey replied.

Ian wasn't about to argue—doing so might change Mickey's eager disposition—so he stepped forward and dropped his pants along the way.

~ ~ ~

Ian spent the rest of his shift moping behind the counter. He wasn't exactly disappointed by sex with Mickey—not by a long shot. In fact, each time with Mickey was the hottest sex he'd ever had... but he wished it was different—less impersonal. Of course Mickey was oblivious to Ian's mood.

Ian was playing solitaire on the shitty burner phone he had as a way to pass the remaining time at work. No customers had come in in a while and they were almost ready to close the store for the night when Ian heard Linda's voice from the walkie talkie.

“Ian! I need you and Mickey to take inventory tonight!” Ian slammed his cellphone shut in frustration.

The good thing about summer was that it was still light out when he finished work, and he didn't feel like he'd wasted his day away inside the store. It was bad enough that he'd had a full morning of summer school and was filled to the brim with math equations Lip had given him to memorize. Inventory would take at least three hours and would ruin Ian's chances of doing anything fun that night.

He wasn't the only one pissed about the sudden change of plans. “I got plans, Linda,” Mickey said back into the walkie talkie.

“Well, you better change them or I'll hire someone else to replace you!”

Mickey tossed the receiver onto the counter with a loud thud. “Fucking bitch,” he spat.

They worked well together, and even though Ian was in a weird mood, they were still getting the inventory done faster than usual. About an hour in, Ian noticed that they were out of some soup cans, so Mickey went to check if they had another crate of them in the back.

“Ay, I'm goin' out for a cigarette,” he called. Ian heard the screech of the loading bay door as Mickey opened it halfway and sat on its edge, letting his feet hang down.

Ian decided to join him, the need to smoke overwhelming. “Can I have one?” he asked Mickey once he sat beside him. The brunet held the pack out and then passed him a lighter after Ian had taken a stick. Even though the door was open, the only air coming through was hot and heavy with humidity.

“I gotta make some collections tomorrow, so I'm gonna be late. You can cover for me, right?” When Ian didn't answer him, he took another puff of his cigarette and blew the smoke into the redhead's face.

“It's a weekend so I know you don't have any of those bullshit math classes. We good?”

“Whatever,” Ian muttered.

Mickey turned towards him and stared intently at his face. “You got a problem?”

“Nah, Mick. No problem.”

Ian could tell that Mickey didn't buy it, but he went back to smoking his cigarette anyway.

He stared out the door into the alley behind the store. It was dark and empty, all the other stores had closed already, and the smell of garbage was made even worse by the sweltering heat. The only things around were the store's delivery truck and the dumpster.

There was no way Mickey was going to suddenly change what they were so good at doing. If Ian wanted to make a change, he was going to have to do it himself... but that wouldn't be easy, especially since Mickey was the one in charge. Ian knew he would have to make a decision and step up.

The idea hit him before he even realized it. _Step up_. He jumped down from the edge of the door and walked towards the dumpster.

“What the hell are you doing, Gallagher?”

“If you want me to do you a favor and cover for you tomorrow morning, then I want something in return.”

“Oh yeah? What's that?”

Ian looked over his shoulder and flashed Mickey a grin. “Take your pants off.”

“Wh-what?” Mickey sputtered. Ian expected that kind of reaction from him. They were outdoors, in a way, and anyone could just walk by, except Ian was sure they wouldn't. It was late, and the store's delivery truck would hide them well enough.

Ian grabbed one of the empty crates out of the garbage and brought it to the door. “There're no cameras out here,” he explained, “and everyone else is gone for the night,” he dropped the crate on the pavement, “so take your _fucking_ pants off.”

Mickey was either too stunned or too excited to disobey Ian's order. Watching the older boy hurriedly kick off his boots, open his zipper and draw his pants down, Ian hoped it was the latter. He pushed the crate forward with his foot and stepped up, positioning himself between Mickey's legs.

“Lose the shirt too,” he ordered. If he was going to get what he wanted, Ian needed Mickey know he was in control this time. Mickey tore the shirt over his head and started to turn around but Ian grabbed him by the shoulder and kept him from doing so. He grabbed Mickey's semi and started stroking it gently while watching the brunet's expression change from confused to more and more aroused.

“What, you gonna blow me, Firecrotch? That doesn't seem like much of a favor...” His eyes were full of lust and Ian felt Mickey getting stiffer and stiffer as he continued stroking him.

“No.” Ian didn't elaborate. His own erection was hardening in his pants and he couldn't take his eyes off of Mickey's face.

“So what's all this about?” Mickey asked, raising an eyebrow at him. It was obvious that Ian's dominance was turning him on, but there was also a hint of fear and confusion in his eyes.

“Like I said, you want something from me, and I want something from you.”

Ian gave Mickey a mischievous grin as he admired the naked form in front of him. _This_ was definitely worth the risk. He took a quick but deep breath to calm his pounding heart and moved forward.

Mickey must have thought Ian was going in for a kiss because he turned his head to the side, but Ian had other plans. He gently caressed Mickey's nipple, licking it with his tongue and sucking on it gently.

Mickey opened his mouth to protest but Ian didn't give him the opportunity. “Just shut the fuck up and let me do this,” he commanded, breaking contact for just long enough to say the words. Mickey nodded ever-so-slightly, then closed his eyes and shut up.

Ian went back to the nipple that was in his mouth but sucked on it harder and Mickey let out an involuntary sigh. He switched to the other side, making sure not to ignore the other nipple, while his right hand still worked Mickey's dick. He could feel the precum slowly wetting his fingers. Without stopping, Ian used his left hand to undo his own zipper and fish himself out.

Ian moved away from Mickey's chest and stood straight, the extra foot of height from being on the crate putting him at the perfect level. He pushed into Mickey and the older boy threw his head back with a hiss. Ian almost apologized... almost... but the tightness he felt once he was inside of Mickey made him forget everything else. He let out the breath he didn't realize he'd been holding and started sliding his solid, hard dick back and forth into the older boy.

This was exactly what Ian had wanted. He continued stroking Mickey in time with his thrusts and used his other hand to hold the older boy close to him—prevent him from leaning back. He didn't care that Mickey kept his eyes closed for most of the time, because the few times that he did open them, Ian caught his gaze. Maybe he was imagining it, but the look in Mickey's eyes... you couldn't fake that, right? There was _something_ there, and something was enough for Ian. It was better than nothing.

He lost his rhythm, his thrusts becoming erratic as he got closer to his orgasm. “I'm close,” he whispered to Mickey.

“Jerk me harder,” was Mickey's reply.

Ian quickened his pumping of Mickey's dick, but found it hard to multitask, his concentration focused on fucking Mickey. The older boy put one hand around Ian's waist for support and used the other one to grab both his dick and Ian's hand around it, guiding the redhead's fist up and down until he was spewing between their bodies. As Mickey came, Ian felt the muscles tighten around his dick and that was all he needed to fall over the edge, his cum spilling into Mickey's ass.

He leaned forward, panting, and rested his head on Mickey's pec. He closed his eyes to clear the spots that had blurred his vision.

“Damn, Gallagher,” Mickey breathed out heavily, “I oughtta ask you for favors more often!”

Somehow Ian didn't hate Linda as much for making them stay late and take inventory.

 


	3. Mark Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mickey marks Ian, so Ian retaliates.

**Chapter 3: Mark Me**

Ian's right hand gripped tightly around Mickey's hip, holding him steady while Ian pounded into the older boy. His left hand was linked over Mickey's fingers, which clutched the metal fence of the dugouts. The way Ian was fucking Mickey, it was all the brunet could do to keep from being pushed face-first into the fence.

The last time they'd fucked in the dugouts had been the day Mickey had gotten out of Juvie. Even though it was the middle of the night, the air was thick with the humidity typical of a Chicago summer. Ian was coated with a layer of sweat, slamming into Mickey with everything he had because the brunet wanted it hard, rough and fast.

After almost two years of hooking up with him, Ian knew exactly which position he needed to be in in order to make Mickey moan, and like clockwork, the brunet was panting, gasping for air on each well-aimed thrust.

“Fuck, fuck...” Mickey huffed.

“I'm close,” Ian said between breaths. Mickey let out a low grunt in time with each of Ian's deep thrusts, providing further motivation for the redhead to continue his steady assault.

Ian felt that familiar tug in his lower abdomen right before his orgasm hit. He closed his eyes as his body began to spasm, the sensation overwhelming, and all he could do was tighten his grip on Mickey as he shot his seed into the brunet's ass.

It was only after he had pulled out of Mickey and dragged his jeans up that Ian felt the pain on his arm. Confused, he looked at his forearm in the moonlight and saw a crescent shaped welt there.

“Did you... _bite_ me?”

“The fuck you talkin' bout, Gallagher?”

Ian held his arm out, showing Mickey the red mark. “It's bleeding!” he said with an incredulous laugh, but the older boy just shook his head in denial.

Mickey sat up on the ledge, leaning back against the cold metal of the fence and wiped the sweat off his brow. He lit a cigarette, taking a few puffs before passing it to the redhead. Ian accepted the cigarette but kept his eyes trained on Mickey, deep in thought. The bite didn't hurt that badly... honestly, he was just _surprised_ that Mickey had marked him _._

“Yo, d'you bring the beer?”

Ian nodded and reached for his backpack, grabbed two cans and passed one to Mickey. The boys spent the next half hour smoking and finishing off the beer Ian had brought along, talking about nothing in particular, but content nevertheless.

“You ready to go again?” Mickey asked as he killed the last can and crushed it under his boot. Ian got up, grinned, and started opening his pants enthusiastically.

This time around, he found it hard to fuck Mickey with the same intensity he'd had during their first round. He settled for strong, albeit slow thrusts. It wasn't like Mickey was complaining—his shallow breathing and small sighs evidence of just how good it felt.

Ian leaned forward so that his chest was flush with Mickey's sweat-slicked back. He shifted his arms to wrap around Mickey's chest, practically hugging the older boy while pulling his pale body towards his own freckled one.

He rested his forehead on Mickey's shoulder, exhausted from pushing so deeply into the older boy. Ian turned his head and licked a stripe up from Mickey's shoulder to the back of his ear. Mickey shivered.

Ian tentatively kissed the underside of Mickey's chin. When he didn't get pushed away, he deepened the kiss, gently sucking on Mickey's neck. Mickey reached back with one hand and grabbed Ian's head, fingers holding onto the redhead's short hair while Ian continued caressing him.

~ ~ ~

The next day, Mickey walked into the Kash and Grab with an attitude. “You're a fucking ass,” he spat, glaring at Ian who sat behind the register.

“What's up?” Ian asked. He watched the brunet put on the Security jacket he'd cut the sleeves off of, noticing that Mickey hadn't shaved.

“Don't act all innocent. You _know_ what's up,” he shot back.

Ian ducked his head and tried to hide his smile from the scruffy brunet. As he'd lain in bed the night before, running his index finger over the bite mark on his arm, he'd wondered how pissed Mickey was going to be the following morning when he noticed the hickey on his neck.

“ _Asshole._ ”

Mickey let his beard grow out over the next few days, and Ian would have been lying if he said the older boy's new look didn't turn him on.


End file.
